Lizzie Bennet Diaries: First Impressions
by azagreene
Summary: Darcy sees Lizzie for the first time and Lizzie forms her opinions **angsty glares and sexual frustration loosely related to Lizzie Bennet Diaries ..may I please add that certain events in this will be different than the actual novel.
1. Chapter 1

Dark eyes glared at me, in the shade of such a lovely blue that it took my breath away. I'd never seen that kind of color before, kind of like the pendant the girl wore in the Titanic movie, only much, much stormier, with aggravation shining brightly like a second iris. My mouth dried up. If I was going to be reluctantly honest with myself, I'd probably never seen anyone with _these _kind of good looks, but go figure, the one time I did, he was glaring at me like I'd kicked his puppy and thrown it in a dumpster.

Smoky lashes framed his exquisite eyes while the low flickering lights of the room played with his paler skin. His tall frame was encased in dark dress pants and a navy dress shirt to match the color of his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the overall muscularity he carried with him.

And all of that was swallowed whole by the haughty expression he had on his face. Of course. Because there was no way he could be a replica of an Abercrombie model and be friendly too. Reality was a bitch-slap in the face, and this guy was the very epitome of that.

Whoever he was, he hadn't come alone. Next to him was another man of the same height - only this guy actually looked approachable - and maybe just not as model-like. Still, he was about ten levels above the town standard, and it was a factor I could see many of the females in the room appreciating, my sister too, in her own subtle way.

Jane's eyes met mine and she smiled slightly at being caught, her eyes crinkling warmly at the edges as they always did. Jane, was well, Jane: too sweet for her own good, with a lovely, classic face to match. She was the prettiest out of the entire female population of the town - it was something anyone would agree to, because who could deny her warm, honey colored hair and gentle green eyes? I gave it five minutes before the friendlier-looking man broke away and walked up straight toward her. She just had _that_ kind of effect.

Fortunately, the snob with the closed-off face had someone to keep him company while his friend actually interacted with other people. The friendlier man, whose name was Bingley, as told by my best friend Charlotte, had brought his sister, Caroline along for a night of socializing and having a good time. Either he was oblivious to his sister's preferences or he just really didn't care, because Caroline Bingley looked almost more out of place than the snob, whose name I didn't really care to find out.

But that plan didn't work out, because my youngest sister Lydia nearly tripped over her own feet to give me the exciting news on the new trio. The pompous snob's name was Darcy, William Darcy, and he was from San Francisco, California. Because his clothes weren't tell-tale signs enough, I was told that he ran a multi-billion dollar company, a continuation of his deceased father's legacy. Impressive as that was, the disdainful expression was still on at full speed. I absolutely _loathed _people who thought they were better than others, let alone this guy who just flew off the scale by his facial expression.

"Lizzie!" I heard Jane call my name, and I turned over to see her with none other than Bingley, a small smile touching her lips.

"Hey," I shot her a soft smile as I walked over in my dress and new heels, which were making me feel quite taller than ever.

"This is Charles Bingley, Lizzie. He just moved in on Wednesday with his sister, Caroline."

Bingley grinned at me and shook my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lizzie."

"It's nice to meet you too," I smiled at him as well, noting that he was the sort of fellow everybody liked because he was just genuinely _pleasant_.

But because he was just too kind, he had to call his sister and the snob over so that they wouldn't be standing alone like insufferable peacocks in a sea of drab pigeons. Unfortunately, sociable, warm, and friendly as we all might be, the entire lot of the grand room could be equivalent to specks of dust, compared to the likes of them. Of course this was something that I kept tactfully to myself, knowing that my opinionated views were even less welcome to the circle than William Darcy himself.

The stupid part of it was that when we shook hands, even _I _couldn't deny that little jolt of electricity that passed between our fingers. He looked stunned for a quick second, as if somebody had bitch-slapped him all the way to mars and back, but the expression was quickly swallowed once again by his general air of disdain, though his jaw tightened noticeably.

During the group conversation, I ran through different scenarios in my head where he was mentally berating himself for his lack of immunity to us "common folk". It was during that exact moment when Caroline Bingley decided to ask me a question and I looked at her stupidly until she repeated it again.

"Have you lived here long, Elizabeth?" She asked, her snooty voice distinctly resembling a valley-girl accent.

"My whole life," I smiled at her sweetly, taking quiet pleasure in the horror that flashed through her eyes.

"How…quaint."

"Do you enjoy small towns, Caroline?" I let a small smile turn my lips, burning with curiosity to see how she would handle the question I already knew the answer to.

"I think it depends on the people," Darcy suddenly cut in, his deep voice sounding surprisingly…pleasant to my ears. "And if their company is tolerable or not." He briefly glanced at me and then swung his gaze around the room carelessly.

"I agree with William," Caroline added quickly. "People's attitudes are so…so _vital_." I had to stifle the urge to elbow Darcy at that point.

There was an awkward silence for about four seconds before Bingley broke it, smiling infectiously upon all of us. "I think this conversation's getting a little too serious for me, so if you don't mind, I think I'll snag Jane here for a little dance." Naturally, Jane blushed until she looked like a tomato with mascara on and acquiesced by placing her hand in his.

And then I was left alone with William Darcy and a Miss Caroline Bingley who looked as if she was looking for the closest exit out of the crowded room. I pitied myself far more than I pitied them.


	2. Chapter 2

Thankfully I was smart enough to bring my own car, so I didn't have to listen to Mom's ridiculous monologues about how Bingley spent ten too many songs dancing with other women who weren't half as becoming as Jane. Poor Jane. Not only did she have debilitating college debt like I did, she also had to suffer our mother's nosy interference in her love life more than me or Lydia. In our mother's eyes, Bingley had danced twice with Jane, which was once more than the other females, which meant that he was probably already driving to Tiffany's for an engagement ring. My face was red from face-palming by the time Lydia had finished ranting because Jane was too sweet to go on a long tirade about our mother's antics.

"Lydia, you're not being very nice," Jane frowned when Lydia concluded her rant. "I'm sure Mom was only saying that to be funny."

"To be _funny_?" Lydia repeated incredulously. "Jane, Mom doesn't _do_ funny. She's insane, I swear. If Lizzie doesn't scare Bingley away with her awkward, nerdy tendencies, Mom will do the trick."

Everything I did, Lydia thought was awkward and nerdy so I wasn't about to start an argument on that. "First of all, if we're going to be rational, Bingley hasn't done anything but dance with Jane. It's too rash for us to start thinking of all these scenarios which probably might not happen."

"Lizzie, don't be such a buzz kill. No wonder no boy wants to be near you." Lydia retorted.

"Lydia, let us remember to keep our mouths closed tight and our legs closed tighter." I chastised in a voice that sounded eerily like Mom's.

Lydia rolled her eyes and I knew that my words of wisdom were wasted on her. She never listened. "I'm going to bed. Night, bitches – it's been real."

Jane smiled slightly and stood up as well. "Well, there's Lydia for you. I think I'm going to go to bed too. It's been a…unique night."

"Night, Jane." I returned her smile as she kissed me gently on the cheek before leaving.

As much as I wanted to stay up and reminisce over what an honor it was to be meeting _the_ William Darcy, my brain had other plans for me. I fell asleep soon after I stretched out on my bed, the reprieve from reality an appealing break to my mind.

I woke up at about noon to the sound of my mother's shrill voice. When I finally made it downstairs, padding groggily to the kitchen, I realized I was witness to an argument between Jane and my mother, regarding our plans for that night.

"Now I told you twice before," My mother said. "Your father and I are having dinner tonight with his work friends – hardly the environment for a trio of young girls. Why don't you and Lizzie take Lydia out to Carter's and have a nice time yourselves?"

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Mom. Lydia's still underage and you know how she gets when she's around alcohol and single men." Jane frowned and shot me a glance.

I stepped in as well. "Mom, if the issue is us being here while you and Dad have guests, we can always stay upstairs, you know. I honestly don't think Carter's is the best thing to do since Lydia spent half of last night sipping 'punch' from a little cup."

Mom raised her eyebrow at me. "Elizabeth, I thank heaven every day that your sister is more sociable than the two of you, since the Lord knows how you two will ever get married with all that working and reading and holing away in your rooms. Lydia is perfectly controllable when drunk if you have a bit of sugar with you. And she isn't _that_ underage – only six months. Don't be such a stickler for the rules, dear – men really find it quite unattractive."

And so that was that. Jane and I were stuck with the task of taking Lydia to Carter's, a bar where desperate single people went to meet more desperate single people. In my mother's eyes, Jane and I were burdened with debilitating debt and no boyfriend, which meant that we were single and desperate. We frequented Carter's mostly because of Mom's urging; clearly she still thought that any future husband we'd snag would be from there. I didn't have the heart or the energy to explain to her that no future husband of mine would be from a bar that smelled distinctly of feet and old candles.

I spent the day working on my thesis paper while Jane helped Mom in the kitchen for their guests that night. When it came time to get ready, Lydia's excitement was almost tangible in the air. Knowing her, she would probably convey that excitement into wearing her sluttiest top ever and Jane and I would be responsible for pulling her shirt _above_ her bra over and over again during the night.

Lydia said I dressed like a forty-year old woman with cats and no love life. I disagreed, knowing that Lydia's tastes were far varied than Jane and I's. She liked to wear items of the far skimpier variety – the tighter the better, right? Half of Jane's clothes had been pulled by the fashion company she worked at, which meant that she looked like she was walking out of a magazine most days. And me: sensible old Lizzie, with her sensible old clothes. Hey, I had some cute pieces in there! When Anthropologie had a sale, as Lydia would put it, I'd go "ape-shit" over that stuff. But, with our debilitating debt issue, shopping wasn't really a priority for me. If I really wanted to wear something new, I'd steal something out of Jane's closet, but otherwise I had what I needed.

Admittedly, a teensey-weensey part of me hoped that tonight, magically, a ridiculously attractive man would sweep inside the war and leave me floundering. In retrospect, perhaps I should have reworded that wish, because when William Darcy walked into Carter's that night, he wasn't the night in shining armor that I was looking for.

Although he did look good.

A little bit.

Okay, a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm pretty sure Lydia had to manually shut my gaping mouth for me because despite my slightly hostile feelings, I still couldn't look away. Darcy actually looked _good_. I mean not that he looked bad back at the gathering, but this time with no tie and suit, he actually looked approachable. It was probably the jeans, I decided. Jeans made everybody look friendlier than they actually were.

What made matters worse was the fact that he saw me as well. For a few minutes he'd been talking to someone at a table on the other side of the room, but when he turned around and saw me staring at him, he merely raised an eyebrow, which made _me_ feel creepy as if I'd been stalking him. I looked away as quickly as possible, but I couldn't deny that the muted little spark was still there, as much as I willed it to go away. Sparks belonged in fairy-tales. I did not need nor want any sparks with any male, least of all Darcy, and the fact that I actually found him attractive was starting to scare me.

In my haze of distraction, both Jane and Lydia had disappeared, leaving me no one to pretend to be preoccupied with. I had my phone with me, but I had a feeling Darcy was too intelligent for me to get away with fake-texting. Knowing that I had to do something to keep me and my wandering eyes engaged, I swiveled around on the chair and called the barman over.

"What can I get you?" He asked politely, his gaze straying longingly over to the blonde female he had been flirting with moments ago.

"I – uh – can I have something light please?"

His eyebrow rose. "It's Saturday night and you want something _light_?"

"Is that an issue?" I challenged him. Not everyone was great with hard liquor.

He shrugged and went over to mix a little concoction up for me, and I waited, trying to resist the itch to turn around and see where _he_ was. After thirty seconds the itch won over and I furtively peeked over my left shoulder toward the crowded dance floor as my drink was set in front of me.

"I'm here, you know," A voice beside me said amusedly. "There's no need to break your neck in order to find me."

I could feel the blood rush to my face swiftly as I jerked around in horror to meet the very blue and entertained eyes of William Darcy.

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I was looking for my sisters actually."

"Ah," Darcy said in a voice that told me he didn't believe one word that I said. "Your youngest is on the dance floor with three men she won't remember tomorrow and Jane is on the phone, behind that potted plant over there."

"Why exactly are _you_ here?" I shot a glance at him while taking a sip of my drink which would be considered light only by the most generous definition of the word.

Darcy shrugged. "I had a few acquaintances here that I wished to visit."

"That's great. So why are you sitting here next to me?"

He snorted. "If it wasn't for all that saccharinity in your voice, Elizabeth, I would've assumed you wanted me gone."

I smirked at him. "My mother raised me to censor my words, Mr. Darcy. Surprisingly…that never applied to my thoughts."

I don't think I'll ever be able to properly describe the expression that ran through his eyes right then. It was a mixture of carefully concealed surprise and a grudging acceptance, but there was something unreadable that flashed through them quickly – and it was something that I desperately wished to know. Then his lips twitched amusedly before he turned to the barman.

Hello, Jeremy. How are you?"

I let the small smile creep over my features. One point for Li –

"Oh and Elizabeth?" Darcy turned back to me once more, his blue eyes piercing. "I am rather competitive by nature, so don't think you've won that round. I look forward to next time."

If I was going to be honest with myself, I probably spent the rest of the night obsessing over that last comment. He looked _forward _to _arguing _with me? What kind of guy said that? I mean, seriously, _who_ the hell said that? Yeah, fine, so bickering with him was more entertaining than with Lydia or Mom, but again, this was _Darcy_ I was talking about. I didn't want to like doing anything with Darcy, let alone arguing with him for the hell of it. And who the heck did he think he was, prancing around the room saying hello in that ridiculously haughty voice of his? It was practically nauseating except for the fact that his voice was so deep and becoming, but frankly, when you know a person thinks they're better than you, just by the sound of their voice, there's something wrong. And honestly, although I took immense pleasure in judging Darcy and ripping his character to shreds in my mind, it's always a period of mourning when a ridiculously good-looking guy turns out to be a total douchebag. Unfortunately Darcy was both unforgivingly handsome and incorrigible. The world sucked sometimes.

When Jane and I were finally able to drag a drunk Lydia off of a man who was as least ten years older than her, we decided that even being in the same room as Mom during one of her rants was better than sulking around at Carter's. Jane being the designated driver slid behind the wheel, and with Lydia constantly bitching in my ear about how she wanted a few Xanax, the ride seemed to take a several hours longer than the ten minutes it was supposed to be.

When we did get home it was around twelve-thirty, and Lydia was passed out in the back seat. We dragged her off to bed, murmuring an incoherent good night to our parents, and I tugged Jane off to my bedroom.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Her eyebrows rose with concern as she viewed my frenzied expression.

"Darcy happened," I spat out, shucking my wedges into a corner of my room.

"I did see you talking to him," Jane replied mildly.

"No, Jane. You saw us arguing. I can't imagine actually having a civil conversation with him – he makes it impossible."

"You're being too harsh, Lizzie." Jane frowned.

"Jane, he told me in other words that he enjoyed _arguing_ with me. Who says that?!" I shook my head and stretched out on my bed as she sat down gently.

"I think you're reading too much into this. He was probably only joking."

"You think everyone's joking when they say something weird." I grumbled, snatching a pillow and shoving it in my face.

"That's because they usually are." I could hear the smile in Jane's voice.

"Not Mom." I mumbled through the pillow.

"Well, Mom's, Mom, Lizzie, and she's hardly an accurate example."

"That doesn't explain why Darcy decided to talk to me in the first place."

"You were a familiar face – why not?"

"Jane, he must know I don't like him." I pulled the pillow down so I could look at her.

She shot me a secretive smile. "Oh, I think _he_ knows that, but Lizzie – do you?"

**If anybody has any particular scenes from the book or the video diaries that they would like me to write, please feel free to let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

When I padded downstairs for breakfast the next morning, Mom was waiting expectantly by the counter for me.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Good morning."

"Did you have fun last night, dear?" She asked pleasantly, but I knew her too well. She wanted something, and it was likely something that I wouldn't be ready to give.

"It was…fine." I shrugged.

"How was Mr. Darcy?" She murmured casually. And that was the bomb: Darcy. I should've known.

"Who told you?" I asked warily as I grabbed a plate from a cupboard.

"Jane mentioned it in passing."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't start getting ideas, Mom. He barely said three words to me."

"Jane said he teased you." The beginnings of an indulgent smile began to tease her lips. "You do know what it means when boys tease you, don't you Elizabeth?"

I groaned. "Mom, please. He's an arrogant prick."

"Yes, but a rich one, dear."

I shook my head as I toasted an English muffin. "I'm not going there, Mom. He greeted me and I said hello back. That's all there was, and all there ever will be. I don't think I have the patience to deal with someone who thinks he's better than me because his car cost twenty thousand dollars more."

"It's a pity he's so terribly arrogant, though. His features are – "

"Ridiculously attractive?" I popped my English muffin onto my plate. "Yeah, unfortunately I'm not as unsusceptible as I thought. He's still an asshole though. Looks don't change anything."

"Looks make it harder to hate him for _being_ an asshole." My mother pointed out wisely.

I couldn't really argue with that, so I just shoved the toast in my mouth and made my way back upstairs again.

Jane was in her room, piecing together scraps of fabric. She looked up and smiled when I trudged in. "Lizzie! Good morning – did you sleep well?"

"You told, _Mom_, Jane?" I said exasperatedly as I plopped down next to her.

Her smile faltered. "I only mentioned that you saw him there – I didn't think it was a big deal."

"It's not a big deal, Jane, but you know how Mom is. She's going to take this to wild and new proportions."

"Lizzie," Jane sighed. "Mom doesn't even _like _Darcy. Remember she called him a pompous nincompoop with too large of a wallet?"

"Jane, Mom likes anything with a large wallet."

Jane frowned at me. "You're making Mom seem like a cash-obsessed woman ready to sell off her daughters. Mom _cares_, Lizzie. You may not like the way she shows it, but she does care."

I huffed and shook my head. "I'm tired of all of this, Jane. None of us have the least bit of interest in getting married – I don't see why she has to push it so much. You're barely twenty-six anyways."

She smiled her special Jane-smile. "It's just how she is, Lizzie. She wants what's best for us."

"I know." I grumbled. "But Darcy's not what's best for me."

"Didn't you say yourself that he barely said three words to you? Three words aren't enough to start worrying over a guy, Lizzie – least of all one who enjoys arguing with you." She was totally humoring me – it was so obvious.

"I'm going to get changed." I rolled my eyes and brushed a kiss across her cheek. "Is Lydia still passed out?"

"Until noon at least. You know how she gets when she has her hangovers."

I winced, partially from memory. Lydia's hangover escapades would probably stick with me till my deathbed. Try as I might, they weren't something I could easily forget.

"Are you doing anything today?" Jane asked casually as I headed out the door.

I paused. "Not really. What did you have in mind?"

"Really, if you're busy, don't worry about it. I was just wondering if you would mind dropping by the fabric store for me and picking up an order. Lydia and Mom can't, and I wanted to stay home to finish working, but if it's too much trouble – "

"No." I interrupted her with a smile. "It's fine, Jane. I don't mind."

She looked relieved. "Great – thank you Lizzie. You have no idea how much this is going to help."

"Just make sure to write down whatever it is you need, and I can go in an hour or so."

"Of course!" She nodded, her auburn ringlets bouncing.

When I did finally make it out of the house, it was with subdued glee and a mild sense of pity for Jane and Mom. Lydia had started to wake up, and her morning-after moods weren't so great at all.

Outside was seasonably warm, the weather a nice balmy, seventy-five degrees. I had dressed in a pretty eyelet blouse with white shorts, and for once my hair was behaving. It was going to be a good day – I just knew it.

However, I should have known that for me, good days never lasted. I think it went to shit somewhere between the time the weather turned from pleasant to stiflingly hot, to when I walked straight into William Darcy, coming outside of the fabric store. If I was going to be completely honest, it wasn't all my fault. Sure, I was texting Charlotte and not really paying attention to my surroundings as I walked out the store, but then again, Darcy had probably been standing there checking the stock market because his phone had notified him that NASDAQ was up by a point. At least my excuse was valid. But by that point, it didn't matter, because the damage had been done. I had walked straight into him, and because he was ever the kind gentleman, he had reached out with a concerned hand to stop me – before realizing that it was I, Elizabeth Bennet who had knocked into him.

"Elizabeth." He said coolly, his gaze running up and down my form. Of course he couldn't be surprised to see me – when had I ever seen him with an expression other than cool disdain?

"Sorry." I said shortly, the hot air making me even more irritable than usual. "I didn't see you."

He glanced down at the phone in my hand. "Clearly."

I had the urge to inform him that he too, had been on his phone, but his device was nowhere to be seen now, and I had a feeling he would merely raise an eyebrow as if I was a lunatic spouting off bullshit.

Darcy looked up at the store and then back at me. "Do you sew?"

My mouth tightened slightly. Did he really want to start a conversation now, in the middle of the heat? "No. This is for Jane."

He nodded slightly, but the amusement hadn't flickered out of his eyes. "You look flushed."

As if it was possible, I flushed even more. Asshat. "It's hot today."

"Is it? I consider this fairly cool compared to the temperatures of Los Angeles."

I seriously wanted to slap him at this point. First of all, eighty-five degrees was not cool, and secondly, who the hell called LA, Los Angeles? "This isn't Los Angeles. Over here eighty-five is pretty hot."

His wry gaze traveled down my face. "That would make sense, considering how red your face is."

All right, that was it. "Do you have tact issues in regards to speaking to women?"

Darcy blinked and then smiled, his eyes glinting. "On the contrary, I don't. Most women find that they'd rather do other things with me as opposed to arguing, so any issues regarding my tact never come into play."

I didn't even want to know what those "other things" were. My nose scrunched up of its own accord and his mouth twitched. "I'd say I'm sorry that I'm not most women, but I'm not."

He shrugged. "I'd say I'm sorry that you find me tactless, but I'm not either."

I watched him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "I think you just sassed me."

Darcy snorted. "I don't 'sass', Elizabeth. I merely snub with class."

I gaped at him for a moment before turning away. "I – "

Darcy chuckled with an edge and grasped my elbow gingerly. "Come. You look as if you're about to pass out in this heat."

"What – I don't – " My eyes narrowed. "Didn't you just say it wasn't that hot?"

His lips twitched once again as he tugged me past the fabric store. "I have accustomed to the heat of Los Angeles, Elizabeth. You're obviously unused to this kind of weather."

"That doesn't explain why you're taking me to – Starbucks? You're taking me to Starbucks?" He shot me a look and I shrugged, glancing at the café he was dragging me to. "I just didn't think you were the type to drink chain-store coffee."

Darcy pursed his lips. "Starbucks is perfectly adequate. Besides, water is what you need – not caffeinated beverages."

"I don't understand why you're doing this." I said as we entered the air-conditioned place.

"Relax. I'm doing this more for myself than you."

"Can't stand the heat either?" I retorted.

"More of the fact that I don't want you collapsing in front of me."

"I'm not going to – "

"When was the last time you had a drink of water, Elizabeth?" He interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth and then closed it, and he nodded. "Have a seat." Darcy pushed me to a table near the window.

"What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously as he moved over to the line.

"Sit down, Elizabeth."

That was all I got out of him until he returned bearing a glass of water and a small sandwich. He set them on the table and took the seat in front of me.

"What's all this?" I blinked, eyeing the food and then him suspiciously.

"Eat." He said simply, shooting me a dense look.

"What if I'm not hungry?" I frowned, taking a swig of the cool refreshing water. I _was_ actually hungry, but he didn't need to know that.

"You are. Eat, Elizabeth."

"I can't eat if you're going to sit there and stare at me the whole time." I retorted. I was trying not to go over the fact that I was sitting at Starbucks with William Darcy, and eating food with said man. Maybe I was actually dreaming and Darcy would turn from his austere self into Lydia in a few seconds.

"What do you suggest I do?" He replied amusedly, gazing at me with clear blue eyes.

"I don't know," I answered. "Check the stock market. Isn't that what you usually do?"

"As it happens, I have far better things to do right now than check the stock market." He scoffed.

"Really? Like what?" I carefully picked up the sandwich and lifted it up to his satisfaction.

"Do you really think I'm rude enough to mess around on my phone when you're sitting across from me?"

"Is this subjective to me, or just common courtesy?" I asked calmly after chewing.

He was silent for a moment before answering, peering at me through his dark lashes. "Perhaps it's just you – no one else can really hold my attention as long as you have."


End file.
